Chapter 7
LEO
I’d rather die than have you save me.
For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the engine and the wind whispering across the highway. My head rang so loudly it was like a drill boring into my skull, and the world tilted slightly to the left.
I heard my own voice echo in my ears.
And I meant it.
I meant every ounce of hatred behind it.
Sergei represented everything that had destroyed my life.
The man worked for the monster who had driven Brad to his death.
The entire Bratva world had swallowed my husband whole and made him fall, gravity finishing the job the moment his body met the pavement. Multiple fractures. Massive trauma.
I’d barely recognized him when I insisted on seeing what was left of him, what they’d scraped up off the pavement. But hearing Sergei’s voice calling my name—steady, calm, frighteningly close—sent an entirely different feeling through my chest.
Relief.
The realization made my stomach twist violently.
I should have been terrified. Instead I felt…safer at the familiarity of his presence, and the thought alarmed me more than the wreck.
Sergei leaned further through the shattered window, his broad shoulders blocking out the flashing hazard lights behind him. Glass crunched under his boots as he reached inside the car and wrestled with the airbag to press the seatbelt release.
The belt snapped free. The moment the tension vanished, my body pitched forward, and a dizzy wave swept through my skull.
“Easy,” Sergei muttered, catching me before I could crash forward. “Can I move you? Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?”
The contact startled me. He was warm. Solid.
One arm braced behind my back while the other steadied my shoulder with careful control, like he was holding something fragile, which was ridiculous.
I wasn’t fragile. I worked out whenever I could, and it wasn’t easy with my schedule at the hospital.
My shoulders were broader than most men my age, my body lean and strong from years of discipline and long hospital shifts.
“I’m fine.”
I didn’t dare say anything else, too afraid I would cling to him and give in to the tears that threatened to fall. Shock was settling in after the crash, but knowing it and handling it were two different things.
Sergei lifted me like I weighed nothing at all in one smooth movement. There was no strain or hesitation. The humiliation from that alone cleared some of the fog from my brain.
“Put me down,” I demanded, but the words came out as a croak.
He ignored me.
Cold night air rushed over my face as he maneuvered me through the twisted door frame and settled me firmly in his arms. The sudden change in angle made the world spin violently.
“This is too much,” I said. “Put me down. You’re making me dizzier.”
“Sorry.”
Sergei set me on my feet beside the car. I leaned heavily against the mangled door, pressing my palm to the cool metal while I tried to steady my breathing. My skull throbbed, each heartbeat sending another pulse of pain behind my eyes.
I could have died.
Sergei reached back into the wreck to turn off the engine and retrieve my briefcase from the back. I didn’t even question how he knew to look for one. Was there anything this man didn’t know about me?
“Be careful,” he said.
“I don’t need your—”
I pushed away from the car, but my legs immediately betrayed me.
They shook violently beneath my weight, muscles refusing to cooperate. The ground seemed to tilt upward, and my vision tunneled.
“Whoa—hey—”
Another man I hadn’t noticed until then caught my arm before I collapsed onto the asphalt.
“Easy there,” he said, steadying me. “You probably shouldn’t—”
One moment the stranger’s hand was gripping my elbow. The next Sergei’s arm clamped around the man’s wrist and yanked it away from me.
“I’ve got him.” The words came out low and dangerous, creating a sudden shift in the air. The other man stepped back instantly, raising both hands in surrender.
“Just trying to help.”
I stared at Sergei through the haze of my swimming vision. He looked furious. His face was set hard, jaw clenched as he steadied me himself. I could feel something coiling in him through his hold on me.
Possessiveness.
I definitely have a concussion. I’m not thinking straight.
The pain pounding behind my eyes made it impossible to chase the answer.
My skull throbbed so violently, it felt like someone had wedged a crowbar between my temples.
The world tilted again, and a moan slipped free from my lips.
Whatever Sergei’s problem with the stranger was, I didn’t have the brainpower to figure it out right now.
“I’ve got him,” Sergei said again to the stranger, scooping me up, one arm sliding beneath my knees while the other that still held my briefcase supported my back. “I know where he lives and will take him home.”
“But I called the police,” the man protested.
“Fuck the police,” Sergei muttered, and kept walking. “I’ll have someone take care of it.”
“Sergei—” I pushed at his broad shoulders. Why was he built like a fucking tank? I couldn’t even get him to budge. “Put me down.”
We were almost at his truck.
“I can walk.”
Still nothing.
His jaw tightened slightly, but otherwise he acted like I hadn’t spoken at all. My head pounded harder with every step.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” I muttered.
Sergei’s stride faltered.
“What?”
I forced my eyes open again, though they kept drifting shut on their own.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” I repeated, pressing my fingers against my temple. “I might have a concussion.”
Sergei’s grip tightened immediately. “Okay.”
My vision blurred again as he opened the passenger door of his truck and lowered me carefully into the seat.
“Leo.” His hand caught my chin, forcing my eyes up to meet his. Green. His eyes were a light green with yellow flecks. They were so pretty. “Stay with me.”
The command vibrated straight through my skull. I blinked slowly, fighting the heavy pull of sleep creeping into my brain.
“Okay,” I muttered weakly.
My gaze drifted toward his hands as he pulled back. They were covered in blood. Deep red streaks ran across his knuckles where the glass tore through his skin. For the first time, I realized he was naked from the waist up, abs for days on display.
I sucked in a deep breath and grimaced. He had punched through a car window to reach me. Why was he doing this? If he’d left me to die, it would have solved his problem of constantly needing to monitor me.
On the way to my house, Sergei punched in someone’s number, someone named Nik.
“Don’t tell me,” the Nik guy answered, his background noisy. “You’re not coming back to the club because you’re going to sneak into the doctor’s house and spend the night watching him sleep while thinking of—”
Sergei growled something at him in Russian, effectively cutting him off, but it was too late. I’d heard enough. I knew he watched my house, but had he ever broken into my home and watched me sleep? His friend couldn’t be serious, right? His tone seemed light enough to suggest he was joking.
Oh fuck, my head hurts too much to think.
“Nik’s sending someone to handle your car,” Sergei said softly, but even so, his voice grated against my sensitive nerves.
“Hmm,” I grunted, and slumped against the passenger seat, fighting the heavy pull of sleep dragging at my eyelids. Every bump in the road sent a pulse of pain through my skull that radiated down into my neck.
“Leo, stay awake, milyy.” Sergei reached across the console and gave my knee a tight squeeze.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What? Milyy?”
I had no idea what that meant. “No, Leo. Only my friends call me that, and you’re not a friend.”
“What should I call you then?”
“Dr. Cavanagh is fine.”
He let out a snort, and I sat up straight, ready to argue with him.
“Fine,” he said after a few seconds. “Dr. Cavanagh, it is.”
But Dr. Cavanagh didn’t sound right on his lips either. It sounded too…playful?
The truck slowed as we turned into my neighborhood. Familiar houses drifted past the window in soft blurs of porch lights and trimmed hedges. I’d been so close to home.
When Sergei pulled into my driveway and shut off the engine, the sudden silence rang loud in my ears. Before I could say anything, his door opened and shut again. I’d barely managed to unlock my seatbelt when the passenger door swung wide.
“Come on,” he said.
“I’ve got it from here. Thank you.”
He didn’t move. His lips were curled into an amused smile. “So you know how to be grateful.”
“Fuck you.” I smacked his hands away when he reached for me.
“That’s not very doctorly of you.” He shook his head. “I see your gratitude is short-lived.”
“I don’t owe you a fucking thing.” I tried to shove him out of the way, but Mount Rushmore, of course, refused to budge. “If anything, you owe me a life.”
Seconds ticked by, and I raised my head to confront whatever fury I expected to see there, but I found none.
“Alright,” he said, sounding way too damn sincere. Joke was on him. A man like him had no clue what sincerity meant. “When the time comes, I’ll trade my life for yours. Until then, let’s get you inside.”
“I can walk!”
“I know.”
Sergei ignored me and lifted me out of the truck with a smooth, controlled movement that made my stomach roil. The ground tilted unpleasantly beneath me as he straightened, and my hand instinctively grabbed his shoulder for balance, only to find warm skin and hard muscles.
“Put me down,” I said again, though the words came out weaker this time.
“No.” The answer was calm, quiet, and utterly final.
By the time we reached the front door, I had stopped arguing. It took too much energy to keep my stomach steady. Sergei shifted me slightly in his arms and pressed my finger against the keypad.
The door opened. Warm air wrapped around us as he carried me inside.
The familiar scent of my house greeted me immediately—clean air and the apple-scented detergent I used on the floors. Sergei walked straight down the hallway, past the living room, up the stairs, and straight to my bedroom.